


Stay With Me

by kissperingniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Song fic, and i blame suz for that too, but i hope you like it, haha but i'm impatient, i think, i wasn't even going to do this by chapters, this was supposed to be a slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 04:08:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1843801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissperingniall/pseuds/kissperingniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Louis is an international star, Harry is his wannabe musician boyfriend who has a one night stand with Ireland's alternative prince Niall Horan, lead singer of Made in Ireland, Liam is Niall's level-headed best friend/bodyguard and Zayn is the sexy new co-star in Louis' new movie and he may or may not be fucking him.</p><p>Or</p><p>The one where Harry falls madly in love with Niall while making it big in the music industry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'm on hiatus from [Channels](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1124977/chapters/2267708) so I thought I'd entertain myself with a different type of Narry fic and this time, a bit of Larry has been included!
> 
> As a note, each chapter will be named from a song that inspired that section. The whole story was inspired from a song called Stay With Me by Sam Smith who is an abso-fucking-lutely amazing singer and makes me feel so many emotions.
> 
> Hope you guys like it!

**01 Summer**

 

The roar of the vacuum cleaner is all that can be heard throughout the apartment. Harry hates cleaning. Well, not necessarily, since he’s really good at it. Sometimes it’s a therapeutic thing for him, but not this time. He despises that he’s so good at it, because somehow or another, he always becomes someone’s maid. Niall used to be so cleanly when he first moved in. Harry never had to worry about coming home from the pizzeria to his apartment trashed—keyword. _His_ apartment. The fact that he no longer cleaned up after himself isn’t what really bothered Harry. It isn’t the haphazard way Niall’s clothes are scattered about the living room, even though his bedroom is literally five feet away. It isn’t the crusty nachos and unmentionables taking up residence in the couch cushions—which, ew. That’s absolutely fecking disgusting—and it isn’t even the mold growing on who knows how old plates that have been layered dangerously around Niall’s room.

It’s the fact that the bloody guy isn’t even around enough for this mess to exist in the first place. Harry scratches his head, attempting to divulge how this even happened and why he’s even bothering to clean up this disgusting display of his entire living space. It’s times like this when he regrets letting Niall become his roommate. Then he remembers how desperate he had been three months ago for a roommate. Niall really was a blessing in disguise, since he sort of already knew him.

Sort of.

Harry still feels guilty thinking about that night they met.

It’d been a relatively normal trip to his favorite pub, Molly’s. He’d been in such a funk, having just graduated from uni, jobless, parental allowances cut, and a boyfriend who’d been screening his calls and ignoring him for weeks like he was the bloody plague. Molly’s was sort of out of the way from his apartment, but the three block walk was never an issue for Harry. He quite loved the contentedness he’d receive from London’s night air and admired the hustle and bustle of everyone’s fast lives.

But that night nothing did anything for him to lift his spirits. Gemma, his sister, really tried to help, bless her soul, but he just couldn’t take her money no matter how desperate he was for the other half of his rent he couldn’t afford. He’d made her a deal, since she’d been begging for him to just borrow the money, no matter how much his morals protested, that if he couldn’t find a roommate in the extra week Lou had given him to get the rent, he’d borrow the money. He’d placed an ad online then, hoping and praying someone would come along that wasn’t a total twat to deal with.

So, feeling down about his love life, his finances, his whole education that seemed to have gone to waste—who goes to university just to get a degree in music? That literally was a complete bullshit waste of time—and feeling completely empty in all sorts of ways since he’d been trying to conserve money by not having to make a trip to the grocery store, Harry wanted nothing more than to numb himself. Getting to Molly’s he sat in his usual booth, ordered his usual burger and chips with provolone cheese because that really was the best, drank from his usual pint of Guinness, and watched the house band as he usually did. That night though, the owner had hired a local favorite, Made in Ireland. They’re this Irish alternative rock band and the little hipster in Harry always found himself lost in their sound.

He’d bought their EP the second it’d been released on iTunes and annoyed Louis to no end since it’d been on replay for literally a week straight. Louis had all about stopped hanging out with Harry and it took everything Harry had and a lewdly sexy picture Louis had sexted to pry him away from them.

So the fact that they were there, in _his_ usual pub, playing a new track that no one had heard, had Harry reeling in his seat, his depression fading just a bit. But this time, Harry didn’t find himself lost in the way that Luke rifted on his guitar or the way Josh was so in tune with the beat of his drums. No, he was lost in the sea of sun kissed eyes that seemed endlessly fixed on Harry and Harry alone. He didn’t hear a single lyric, but he was watching the way Niall’s lips caressed the microphone, and how he was sweating under the red and blue lights that hid the brown roots growing into his bleached hair.

He craved him. It wasn’t like he didn’t ever find Niall attractive beforehand, but seeing Niall fucking Horan in person created this whole new outlook for him. He thought of ways to get him to come home with him. Harry wasn’t even sure if Niall liked guys, but he didn’t particularly care. He was so fecking fit that it’d be sin not to fuck him.

Part of him really wanted to get him into bed and give him a shag that would inspire the next best sex song, and it would be all just to show Louis to screen his calls and ignore him. But Harry wasn’t really like that. He loved that idiot boy with every part of himself.

So why did the thought of cheating on him sound so interesting? He really wasn’t the type to have a one night stand anyways. That’s how he met Louis and feelings happened and seven months down the road they were committed. But forgetting the whole relationship thing for a second was such a relief to him, and he figured he should challenge himself, see if he still had it, and if he did, then why in the hell wasn’t his stupid boyfriend talking to him?

Before Harry had a chance to figure out his own problems in the romance department, his bright greens met those sun kissed blues and Harry knew, just knew, he couldn’t be alone for that one night.

He regrets it. Not that he regrets that it was Niall, because he’s seriously become one of the closest friends he’s had in years, and maybe perhaps the best fuck too—but he would never openly admit that. Speaking of, forget that he’d even thought it—but the fact that Harry had cheated kills him. Even if Louis was being a shit boyfriend at the time, he didn’t deserve it.

Thinking back though, Harry always wondered what a successful musician like Niall needed an apartment for. It was sweet, remembering how shocked Niall had been when Harry opened the door after asking him to come meet him. Neither of them had any idea that things would turn out this way.

At least they decided to start from scratch about the whole one night stand thing.

Groaning, Harry comes back to reality, glaring at Niall’s mess. He tries distracting his thoughts with cleaning, he really does try. Seriously, it was three months ago and it’s not like Harry has feelings for Niall, despite how fucking fit he’s gotten since he met him.

But there had been a connection that night. Which is why Harry hates the whole one night stand bullshit. He’s too romantic for it, which is why he and Louis are even together in the first place. To this very day, Louis still fondly teases Harry for the fact that he’d thanked him for a great night.

Stupid Louis. It really had been and still is the best sex he’s ever had. So sue him for appreciating it.

 _“Thank you,”_ Niall had murmured the morning after, kissing Harry on the cheek before leaving.

The memory is still vivid and Harry has to mentally wrench himself from that day. At first, it was sort of easy to just forget. Then Niall stopped wearing all of his clothes when he had his time off and Harry had woken him up only to find that he was stark naked under the covers. It did little to leave his imagination to ponder over, not that he’s been thinking about Niall like that, and not that he’s thought about the cute little shamrock tattooed behind his left ear.

Niall steps into the apartment and physically jerks back from the stench of the place. He pinches his nose closed. “Harry!” Harry looks to the blonde tenant with lazy eyes, peering effortlessly over the top of the couch. “And I thought I had nasty gas.”

Harry forces a grin, standing from the crusty couch—ew—and hands the multi-purpose cleaner over to Niall. “Well, it _is_ your stench. Why don’t you clean it?” Niall almost protests, but he sees the warning look Harry is giving and slumps his shoulders in defeat, taking the cleaner from him. “Thank you,” and he goes to leave the room, he really does, but he catches sight of that stupid little shamrock and he just wants to lick it and leave a bruise around it.

“Hey Harry,” Niall says, glancing over his shoulder.

Harry hums, shaking his hair from his eyes to hide he’d been staring, “Yes?”

“Want to have some drinks with me tonight?” It’s been a while since they last hung out.  He suddenly realizes that he misses him, despite the disgusting state he’s left his apartment in. Louis doesn’t like him for some reason, then again, Louis doesn’t really like any of his friends. Speaking of, he’s supposed to have him over tonight and the place is still a pigsty.

Sighing, he knows that he can’t get it clean enough before he gets here. It’s already half five and Louis said he’d be over around six thirty. “Fuck. I guess. I have to cancel plans with Lou, tonight, so give me a sec while I call him.” Niall looks like he feels bad, which, he should because this is all his fault, but Harry doesn’t entertain the expression, walking into his room and dialing Louis.

It goes straight to voicemail and Harry’s confused. “What the…?” So either his phone is off or he totally just screened his call for the first time in three months. He knows Louis isn’t busy with work, he knows because Louis meticulously tells Harry his monthly schedule so they can plan when to meet up. With him being an actor, he’s gotten quite popular since Harry first met him. A year ago, Louis was just barely making his break out into the acting world, but suddenly, he landed a gig over in America and half of their relationship was spent talking over Skype and the phone.

When Louis finally came home from the states in late May, Harry was just about to graduate, so at least he was present for that. Since then though, Louis has been more absent than present in Harry’s life and he’s come to the conclusion that they’ve begun to drift.

He almost lets himself fall into his sad thoughts until his phone roars to life and its Louis calling him back. For some reason, he can’t answer fast enough. “Hi,” he tries coolly.

Louis doesn’t seem fazed in the least. “Sorry for missing your call, love. Was in the shower and had my phone on do not disturb.”

“Ah. Well… I know you were looking forward to tonight, but the apartment is trashed and Niall and I are stuck trying to make it smell like something didn’t die.”

Louis scoffs. “Niall’s such a nasty roommate. This sucks. My stomach has been craving your food all week. My dick… well that’s another story.”

Harry frowns, “I’m sorry. Are you free tomorrow night?”

“Got a photo shoot actually. Then Elle’s taking me out for drinks afterwards in celebration for my getting the lead in this drama movie.”

Harry’s heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. He knows what this means, Louis will be away and he’ll be home, all alone, working his lame nine to five job at the pizzeria down the street, nursing his loneliness with drunken nights for who knows how long. Harry’s not even sure he can take this anymore. He loves Louis, he really does, but he still feels shitty for not being able to launch his music career, and he feels incredibly jealous of Niall and how successful he’s been.

He really hates how sad his life is. “Oh, well I’m happy for you, babe. Really happy.”

Louis’ smile is heard and it’s warm and he sounds sort of sad. “Thank you, love. I really just hate that we’ll be apart.”

“Me too.” Harry leans his head up against the wall, closing his bedroom door so Niall can’t hear. He might just start crying and no one needs to know that. “But you’ll do great. I’ve always known you’d do great things.”

“It’s just acting, but hearing that from you makes it sound like I’m some sort of hero or something.” Louis coos genuinely, and it makes Harry smile. That’s Louis though. He’s always the one to deflect sadness easily.

“My own superhero. You could be the next Spider-Man.”

“I’m sure Andrew Garfield does a pretty brilliant job at that.”

“You’d be sexier though. Not to mention your arse filling that suit would make the whole movie worth watching.”

Louis laughs loudly, the sound filling Harry’s ears, warming his heart. “Of course you’d say that.”

“Well, what can I say? I love your arse. Really miss it.”

“It misses you too,” he says and then adds, “Misses your dick mostly”—suddenly Louis’ away from the phone. His little “Oh, what? Fuck, no way. Thanks, Elle” can be heard before his voice is instantly louder in Harry’s ear—“Hey babe, looks like the fates have dawned on us tonight.”

“How do you figure?”

“Elle says I can take you with me.” Sometimes, Harry really hates Eleanor. But then shit like this happens because of her and he just wants to pepper her sweet little face with kisses. He can tell Louis’ lighting up with happiness and he’s not sure if he’s heard him right.

Yanking away from his sad position on the wall, Harry grins. “Wait… did I hear that right, just now?”

“Mhm. You wanna go?”

Harry opens his door to gaze upon Niall cleaning vigorously. He feels a little bad at the thought of leaving Niall all by himself, and he’s not sure he trusts that he’ll take care of the apartment while he’s away. But this is an opportunity to go to the states and maybe make something of himself while he gets to be by Louis’ side and not have to abide by himself here, alone, waiting on Skype in hopes Louis’ will jump online for a mo.

“Can I think about it?”

“Sure, babe. Hope you say yes.” Louis quickly answers. “Hey, I gotta go, Elle keeps nagging me about something.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Ending the call, Harry sits on his bed and thinks for a moment. Louis has never invited Harry to go with him when he has overseas work. Then again, this is the first time Harry’s actually been free to have that option, not being in school and all. He falls back on his bed, happily relieved that he won’t have a boring year. A part of him wonders if he should just give his apartment to Niall. He knows he’s good for the rent and he could bring Liam into the place if he felt lonely enough. They’re always stuck at the hip anyways, with Liam being his self-proclaimed bodyguard and all.

It’s certainly a thought he could muse for a while until he’s figured things out.

Getting up, he heads back into the living room, finding that the place is in better shape before he escaped to his room and there’s this huge dimply smile on his face that won’t go away.

“Starting to look ace, Ni.”

His blonde quiff has matted itself to his forehead, glued from his sweat and he grins wide. “Hey thanks. Sorry ’ve been such a slob. I don’t even know how it got this gross. Why the hell ‘re there nachos pasted in b’tween the cushions?”

Harry only shrugs and helps him remove the three cushions, tossing them onto the balcony to air out. They’ll peel the covers off and give them a good scrub down later. “Maybe in a drunken stupor we decided it was a good idea.”

Niall appreciates that Harry also takes it on himself for part of the mess. Harry really isn’t the type to point fingers. That’s not what he’s about. He doesn’t want Niall to feel like this isn’t his place, he just wished he’d take better care of it.

The blonde laughs and Harry smirks, his body rolling into a laugh as well. He can’t stay mad at Niall for too long, he really can’t. He’s too happy-go-lucky for Harry to ever find a reason for his anger. Not only that, Harry himself isn’t one to be angry in the first place. “So, where we going tonight?”

Niall straightens from cleaning a spot on the floor. It’s all soapy and his pants are soaked and Harry finds him cleaning endearing, because he seriously intends on the apartment being spotless. “I was thinking I’d show you how the music scene is.”

Harry freezes, looking to Niall in shock. He’s never invited him out to any clubs or places where there’d be potential producers or other musicians. While Made in Ireland is a small band that started in a garage basically, the past three months since Harry had seen Niall in Molly’s has proven very successful for them. Which is why the bloke is hardly ever home. When he is, a tornado of filth seems to follow him, apparently. “Really?”

“Really really.”

“But why?”

“Haz, ya don’t think ’ve heard how bloody amazing ya sound in yer room at three am when ya think ‘m still not home? I can open doors fer ya.”

Harry blanches, and he’s physically fixed to the spot he’s been standing in for the past three minutes. Time seems to have slowed down that none of this feels real. Niall actually _knows_ people. Harry knows he does because there have been a few times where he’s been seen out with Ed Sheeran, pretty much looking like the best fucking friends in the whole damn world. Harry remembers seeing a magazine with them headlining the latest gossip article and feeling incredibly jealous that Niall knows Ed-fucking-Sheeran.

“You’re too kind, but…” Harry starts, and he can already see Niall visibly rejecting Harry’s rejection.

“No buts. I want ya t’ succeed. I can tell yer so unhappy at that pizzeria, I mean, I wouldn’t be cuz pizza, but you’ve become one of my best friends, Harry. I _want_ ya t’ be as happy as ya can. When I heard ya singin’ in yer room comin’ home feeling like shite because I botched a set—No Harry this is about you right now, don’t worry bout it—and all I could hear was this super soulful, sad yet contented voice comin’ from yer bedroom, I just _knew_. You can become one of the best singers in the world and I want t’ see ya get dere.” Harry scans Niall’s face for any sort of joke that this might be, but he’s completely serious and that hits home.

Harry never told Niall he wants to be a musician, and he tries his hardest to make sure he didn’t know, but he slipped up and it is quite possibly the best mistake he’s ever made.

If anyone ever asked if he regretted sleeping with Niall, he would quickly say no. Not because it was a really good shag, not because he’s a really popular musician, and not because he’s fit as fuck. No.

Niall James Horan is the best fecking friend in the world and he couldn’t imagine anything better.

 

*

 

Club Midnight, as clichéd as the name is, is probably the coolest club Harry’s gone to. He’s not saying that it’s cool because of all the beautiful people and that the music is cool, but the atmosphere is genuinely relaxed and easy going. Everyone is dressed properly, and Harry’s glad he decided to play the part as well. Niall couldn’t stop trying to touch his tall hair on the way there, making it difficult for Harry to dodge his hand and drive simultaneously.

“It’s just so _tall_.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Harry grumbles, swatting Niall’s hand.

The second they walk into the club and Niall’s surrounded instantaneously by too beautiful people and suddenly Harry feels very uncomfortable. Everyone’s greeting Niall like moths to a flame, and Harry’s incredibly left out. Or at least he thinks he is until Niall pulls him into the throng of people and leads him away towards a booth in the VIP section and says he’ll be back with some drinks. The next thing Harry knows, he’s crowded between Luke, Josh and Ed-motherfucking-Sheeran.

“Hey mate! You Nialler’s friend?” Ed smiles brightly at him, his blue eyes all too friendly and voice sounding like it was crafted by gods.

Harry returns the grin and nods. “His roommate too, but that’s a secret,” he winks and Ed flips his head back in laughter. He pats Harry’s back enthusiastically and Niall’s returning with drinks.

Harry almost frowns when he realizes there’s a whole plate of shots and he’s certain that he’s going to get piss drunk tonight and doesn’t know how to say no. “Bottoms up, lads!” Niall cheers, toasting his shot to the others that already have their drinks but Harry’s yet to grab his. Quickly, he picks it up and nods to Niall before they shoot the burning alcohol down their throats. Harry instantly recognizes it as tequila and he’s shooting daggers in Niall’s direction.

He only smirks.

“Introductions are in order, mates! Luke, Josh, Ed, this is Harry. Quite possibly one of the best musician’s I’ve ever had the pleasure to hear from my bedroom next to his.” The lads laugh and smile genuinely at Harry, who blushing up a storm and equally loving and hating Niall.

It’s a simple outing actually. Niall had promised to show Harry around the scene, but it’s really just an excuse to get Harry to spend time with him. Time that Harry is more than happy to have given. He’s still sad about bailing on Louis tonight, sort of in favor for Niall, but it’s needed. No drama, no thoughts about possibly not being with him anymore, or doubts that Louis will leave for America and never turn back.

He’d even forgotten about Louis’ proposal to come with him to the States while working on the movie.

It’s truly, simply, the nicest night he’s had.

 

Niall clumsily walks along the railing over the Thames, giggling about some stupid joke he’d made that has a very drunk, very happy Harry rolling in laughter. The sun’s slowly rising and it’s got the sky painted purple and pink and it’s magnificent. “What time is it?” Harry murmurs so softly that he isn’t sure Niall’s heard him.

“Who cares, ya?” He leans against the railing, his chest halfway off the bridge and sighs contentedly. Breathing in the morning air, Niall smiles. “Iss nice t’ juss be away from the world sometimes. No worries, nothin’ holdin’ ya back. Juss… Me, the world, and happiness.

Harry hops up on the railing, kicking his legs out mundanely, absorbing the simplicity of Niall’s personality. Taking a breath himself, he sighs into the atmosphere. “Yeah.” Niall joins his side, nudging his knee against Harry’s and giggling lightly. Harry can’t help but stare at him, watching the way his eyelashes softly touch the peaks of his cheekbones, how his lips curl up in a slightly dimpled smile that Harry didn’t know existed, or maybe he hadn’t paid enough attention. As the sun rises, it hits Niall’s eyes almost like a kaleidoscope, the hints of yellow around his pupil appear white and the ocean blue turns green and Harry’s breathless.

Completely, utterly reduced to melting into his own skin.

“So beautiful…” it’s barely a whisper, but it comes out so easily and Harry’s quick on his blush.

Niall smiles bigger. “It really is.” They watch the sun rise over the horizon, basking in the golden warmth it provides.  Niall turns to his speechless roommate with his perfect little dimply grin and starts to climb down. “Well, ready to head back home?” He offers his hand to help gangly legged Harry down and they continue down the street, hand in hand like it’s the most normal thing for two best friends to do.

“Thanks, Niall.”


	2. Chapter 2

**02 Young and Beautiful**

 

Harry can’t get enough of waking up to the most beautiful man in the world. He’s lucky, Harry concludes, because to this very day, he still doesn’t get why Louis chose him over anyone else. Yet, lying here, with his gorgeously enticing out of this world boyfriend, everything just feels right. Louis’ lashes curl over high cheekbones, skin a pretty sun-kissed caramel, and Harry just wants to pepper him with sweet kisses. Slowly, he begins to stir and smiles when he notices how endearing Harry’s stare is. “Mornin’.”

“Good morning, baby. Sleep well?” Harry coos, pressing his lips to a lightly stubbled cheek. Louis smiles and huffs, rolling into Harry’s chest, using him as a pillow.

“Dun wanna go to work.”

“But you have to,” Harry grins, wrapping his arms around him, hoping he can’t hear just how fast his heart is racing.

“I wanna stay in today. Let’s play hooky,” Louis entertains, lifting himself up to gleam a mischievous smile towards his boyfriend. While the thought is very _very_ tempting, Harry can’t help but allow his sense of responsibility take over.

Shaking his head, he gives a half-hearted grin. “Sorry, love. You can’t miss a day on set. Eleanor would be furious.”

“Bollocks! Just tell her I’m sick with a fever.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at him. “She’d never fall for that.”

“But that’s why I’m an actor, Styles. I can _act_ the part. It’ll be like an exercise.”

“For a high school movie? Ya right.” Harry chuckles, flipping his hair to the side.

Groaning in defeat, Louis nuzzles closer to Harry, breathing him in. “You smell so good in the morning.”

“Like sweat and sex?” Harry laughs. Louis shakes his head against the bare skin of Harry’s chest.

“Smells like you. Smells like my Harry.” He mewls, pulling Harry closer, even though he felt as close as they possibly could without fucking each other. Which, if his dick was giving him a sign, it was now, rock hard between them. “Mmm…” Louis hums, grinding his hips into Harry lightly. “Feels good too.”

Harry scoffs, rolling his eyes and trying to ignore how impossibly turned on he is right now. “You’re such a tease.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah… debating whether to let you fuck me or have a wee and get in the shower.”

Louis whines. “What if I’d rather you fuck me?” Big blue eyes gaze up to meet bright green and there’s a heated look about Harry. They switch, it’s isn’t unusual to hear Louis say something like this, but it’s been a while since Harry’s had the chance to be on top and it’s thrilling. “Please?”

“You really do get whatever you want, don’t you?”

With a bubbly giggle, Louis rises quickly, sitting up and glancing over Harry’s lengthy form, admiring the many tattoos peppered about soft skin. Louis just wants to run his tongue over every outline of every piece of art Harry has across his fleshy canvas. Harry’s posture is relaxed against the tufts of pillows surrounding him, his hands tucked behind his head and a playful smirk tugging at the edges of his pink lips. He wants to destroy him, wreck his body and make him flush red all over. Wants to elicit those sweet, desperate moans he can get from him and make Harry cum untouched.

Louis feels instantly discouraged the second his phone wakes up, blaring an awful beeping tune throughout the suite. Groaning in frustration, he leans over and snatches the device from the nightstand, irritated when he sees its Eleanor. Probably calling to ask where the fuck he is and why he isn’t on set yet.

Harry frowns, slowly getting up from the bed, but Louis stops him, giving a devious look.

“H-Hello?” He answers, voice suddenly sounding hoarse and broken. He listens in for a while, waiting to give his next reply. “Sorry, Elle”—cough—“I’ve felt like rubbish all morning…”

Harry’s lips curve at Louis’ attempt to fake sick. He rolls his head back in laughter when he hears Eleanor’s response.

“You’re gonna wish you were sick if you don’t get your ass down here. Don’t think I don’t know your ‘I’m sick’ routine? If you’re not here within the hour, I’m making sure that you’re off this production.” Her threat is dead serious and Louis is a deer in headlights, knowing that he really shouldn’t try to fool her. She’s been his manager for two years now. Harry’s hysterical and Louis just feels like crap. “One hour, Tomlinson.” And she hangs up before he has the chance to defend himself. Sighing, he drops the phone on the bed and gets up painstakingly slow, really not wanting to go to work.

Harry sits up on his elbows and watches his naked curvy little body meander teasingly towards the bathroom. Louis stops in the doorway and glances over his shoulders to the curly haired giant, smirking and gesturing his finger for him to follow.

A little shag in the shower never hurt anyone.

 

*

 

It’s late November and Harry’s surprised he doesn’t really need anything more than his favorite white jumper to feel comfortable in the seventy degree weather. If he was back home in London, he’d be freezing his nuts off for sure. Niall’s a different sort of fucker though, dressed in only pants and trousers and sporting the hard nipple look.

“Don’t you think you should put a shirt on?” Harry suggests over Skype.

Niall drinks from his can of Guinness and grins at him, readjusting the guitar on his lap. They’ve been co-writing songs for the past few weeks since Louis leaves for most of the day and Harry’s got nothing better to do besides getting himself lost in the middle of L.A. where someone could easily mug him. Louis’ words, not his, from the one day that he literally could not find his way around Rodeo Drive. He thinks he almost picked up a hooker, but then again, that day is still a bit fuzzy to him.

“Nah, it’s nice t’ feel susceptible t’ something as feeble as the cold. Reminds me that I’m human.”

“You’re definitely not human, but all right Nialler.”

Niall laughs and sets his beer down, strumming lithely on the strings. “So this bridge.”

“Yeah, it’s missing something.”

“Well, I was gonna say it’s perfect, but it is yer song.”

Harry smiles at his approval. “Thanks. Maybe it doesn’t need something.” His smile falters, though, the thought of loneliness looming over him.

“What’s the matter?”

The fact that Niall can easily pick up on Harry’s moods through a camera is astounding. He really misses his best friend. His only friend. “Lou’s been so busy with the movie and I feel so god awful alone. I’ve watched all of the _I Love Lucy_ reruns I can take and TMZ always has drama stories that don’t ever seem real. I’m pooped out of the telly. And most of the time, I’m already asleep before Louis even gets home.”

“When was the last time you two had a date?”

“Like…” he thinks about it. “A month ago, I think? Right after rehearsals were done and the director had decided to start filming. I can’t remember the last time we had sex, if I’m honest.”

“Yikes.”

Harry sighs solemnly, looking down at his lap. “He came in late, these past few mornings. He says he’s just out with his cast members, but like…” he tries to swallow the lump in his throat, unable to move past the god awful feeling in his gut that something has gone terribly wrong in his relationship. “What if… what if he doesn’t want to do this anymore… with me?”

Niall looks offended that Harry would even think that, but it doesn’t help the fear go away. “Don’t think that, Haz. He loves you. I mean, he was practically begging you to go with him when you were trying to stay just because of me. Which, while that’s pretty nice of you to want to stay just so that I’m not alone, it wasn’t needed. You’re needed there, with Louis, because you two are meant for each other.” He’s genuine and it touches Harry’s heart and warms him. It just isn’t enough for him to think that things are even okay with them.

“He barely looks at me in the morning when I wake up and make his coffee. He’s just… not my Louis anymore.”

Niall scoffs disbelievingly, but suddenly he’s gone from the computer, his voice barely audible in the background. Liam had moved in temporarily while Harry’s been away. It was more Harry’s request than anything, because the idea of Niall being by himself and trying to afford the rent destroyed his conscience. He barely knows Liam, but he’s Niall’s childhood friend and so by default, he trusts him. It’s a strange concept.

When he returns to the computer, Niall is grinning for miles. Harry pulls his hand away from his face curiously. “What’s up?”

“I think I have a solution to you being lonely.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Made in Ireland has a gig lined up with Capitol Records so I can come see you.”

All Harry’s heard is that Niall is coming to Los Angeles and he couldn’t be any happier. While it isn’t a full solution to his issue, at least Niall will be able to keep his mind off of things. With being such a hermit for the past two and a half months, Harry could use a night out with the only person who knows how to distract him. “No way.”

“Yes way. Liam intercepted a call from one of their producers who I guess heard a demo of ours and he loved it. Harry, this is really happening.” Niall is so ecstatic and Harry can’t help but feel a bit envious of him. He’s still cooped up, writing shitty songs about how lovesick he is with Louis and Niall’s making it already. He supposes it’s overdue, they have been a band for almost three years now. It’s about time someone built up on their foundation.

“I’m really happy for you,” it sounds half-hearted, but he means it with everything he has.

“Anyways, we’re goin’ out after we see the execs. ‘ve been dyin’ t’ get ya outta that shithole since ya first started feelin’ sad bout it.”

Harry smirks. “I’m living in luxury, Ni!” He gestures around the suite. It’s luxurious, that’s for certain, with its marble flooring and granite counters engraved with gold pieces, not to mention how fucking soft the mattress is and the thread count. Oh god the thread count. But none of that mattered as much as the fact that Harry is here, with Louis, only Louis isn’t here. Is never here. He hates his life. “How can you say it’s a shithole?” He’s trying to keep the easy conversation going, but Niall sees right through him.

“I’ll be there on the twentieth. Just a few days, Haz.”

 

*

 

A night out with Niall is well worth it. He _needs_ this. Feeling so down about Louis—who, still hasn’t bothered to notice that things aren’t all right with them—and missing his best friend has taken a toll on his state of happiness. Although it won’t be permanent, but getting a little alcohol in his system tonight and spending time with Niall is going to be the highlight of his whole damn year.

The second he sees Niall, he’s greeted promptly by Luke and Ashton who shower him with hugs and peppered kisses across his face. Harry’s grinning brightly, and his cheeks hurt so much but he doesn’t care because Niall James fucking Horan is two feet away from him, holding his arms out for a long overdue embrace.

Niall kisses his forehead and presses his to Harry’s like soccer players do when they score a goal. It’s a magical moment of reprieve. “God I fuckin’ missed ya.” Niall’s gleaming, already inebriated but that’s okay. Everything about this is okay.

Harry’s okay.

“Missed you too, Ni. It’s nice to be able to breathe fresh, bar air.” He laughs and they settle into a corner booth—Niall always gets corner booths because he feels secluded from the madness of the bar scene but he can watch it—and Niall passes him a pint.

“Been waiting fer ya for ten minutes. It’s probably warm.”

Harry drinks from it anyways, gulping down the skunky taste and smiling wide at the blonde. “Best beer I’ve had in ages.” Niall shoves him with his shoulder and chuckles. “So, how was the gig?”

“Fuckin’ brilliant, mate.” Ashton pipes in excitedly.

“We met Coldplay,” Luke blurts, acting as if he didn’t say it sooner he would’ve burst. “Fecking crazy, it what it was.”

Harry looks to the three of them with big, disbelievingly jealous eyes. “No way. Lucky bastards.”

Niall toasts his pint to nothing, “You know it.” He swallows it down in seven seconds flat. Yeah, Niall’s pretty drunk at this point.

They shoot the piss for a while, just talking about when they’re set for recording and how amazing it was meeting Chris Martin and Harry’s happy for them. Truly. They deserve it more than anything else and have worked even harder to get here. That twinge of jealousy still sits in the back of his mind, but that’s where it stays for the night. This is no time for him to be moping about other’s happiness. This is the time for fun and making memories with his mates and he couldn’t imagine life without them. Especially Niall.

Everything’s so surreal. The points leading up to their friendship don’t haunt Harry like they used to, but he still thinks about that night on the first of June. He remembers how it felt with Niall on top of him, and how it didn’t ever feel like he was just a shag. It always makes Harry wonder if all of Niall’s one night stands were like that, but he’ll never know because there’s no reason to talk about it now. They’re too good of friends to discuss any type of feelings that could’ve been and Harry’s okay with that.

He really is.

There’s a Lana del Rey song playing over the sound system and suddenly Harry’s on his feet, being led to the dance floor by Niall, their fingers slotted together perfectly. It isn’t until the crescendo of the song hits him and Harry realizes it’s a very tasteful remix of _Young and Beautiful_. He wants to figure out who remixed it but Niall’s pulling his attention away and directs it on him and only him. Harry truly wonders just how many beers Niall has consumed when he slowly moves his body to the beat, albeit clumsily, but somehow it’s sexy. He’s clad in a white v neck and skin tight blue skinny jeans.

How he’s just now noticing exactly how _hot_ Niall looks is beyond him, but his blonde tresses are messily quiffed upwards, a stray strand has fallen forward and the back has been pulled outwards haphazardly. Harry wants to grab a tuft of his hair and _pull_. He wants to see how Niall would react, but those sun burst blues are calling his name, drawing him in towards his body as the beat grows.

_“Hot summer nights, mid-July, when you and I were forever wild…”_

There’s only inches between them and Niall’s hands have found their way up the back of Harry’s shirt and god, he’s not sure he’s even okay anymore. He’s drunk, really drunk in the way Niall’s dark stare is latched onto him and only him. While the song isn’t exactly sexy—more beautifully remixed than anything—Harry can’t help but feel it’s the perfect sort of tune that has them irrefutably magnetized to one another. It’s insane and this is his best friend, but fuck it all if he’s not feeling a bit turned on from nail stubs drawing down his long back.

Harry cards his fingers through messy blonde and their lips are dangerously close and his cheeks are burning hot and he just feels so high above everything. He forgets everything, every woe, every issue, every single touch Louis ever placed against his body.

This is Niall, this is the one soul that’s saved him from himself so many times.

The one person he never regrets sleeping with after a meaningless shag.

If he’s honest with himself, it never was meaningless, for either side. He thinks maybe Niall’s been wanting him just as much as he’s wanted him and this tightness in his core is overwhelming.

“You’re drunk,” Harry whispers, noses and foreheads pressed together and it’s like the world’s eyes are on them, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing ever seems to matter when he’s around Niall and it’s simply poetic.

Niall only giggles, his breath hot and vaguely smelling of alcohol. Harry doesn’t mind, though. “And wha if I am?”

“Will you still remember me in the morning?” Harry jokes.

“Make me dem pancakes I like an’ I’ll tink bout it.” Another laugh and they’ve already drowned out the world surrounding them.

Harry pulls away and sweetly fixes the fallen strand of Niall’s hair. “You’re a hot mess.” He mumbles and Niall quickly licks into Harry’s mouth, pulling him in strongly. Niall’s hands fall from the middle of Harry’s back to the edge of his jeans and it sends shivers throughout his entirety. Closing his eyes, he deepens the kiss, gripping the back of Niall’s head and tugs at tangled tresses, then pushes him in towards him.

The song finally ends and somehow they return to a state of reality when Luke is literally shouting their names over the music, only to be heard upon the bar falling silent. He’s instantly embarrassed but ignores it and pulls Harry and Niall away from the crowded dance floor and outside to breathe in the fresh air.

Niall and Harry are still coming down from the high of their kiss and it’s finally dawning on Harry that nothing about this is simple. That if no one had interrupted, they would already be well on their way to the same damn thing that introduced them. Whether or not he could have feelings for Niall doesn’t matter in the slightest when he has Louis waiting for him in their temporary home away from home. He thinks to look at Niall, try to get a hint as to how he should go forward from this, but he realizes that if he looks, he’s not going back. He’s going to bite his lip and suggest they do what they did half a year ago and Harry’s not sure he’s ready to go to the other side of this.

No one is ever prepared to fall for their best friend.

“I need to go,” Harry murmurs, walking away as quickly as he can, and hailing a cab without looking back. He’s shuffling his feet as he approaches the yellow vehicle, about to shut the door when suddenly Niall’s beside him, hair messed up from running and cheeks apple red. He looks to the Irishman in disbelief, unsure of what to say.

“Don’t say a word.” Niall states, leans back in his seat and stares out the window as the driver takes them to the hotel. Harry does as he’s told and does the same, watching the streetlights fade by and revels in the mysterious clouds quickly covering the night sky, a sky full of stars disappearing.

He tries not to think. Tries to ignore the gentle touch of Niall’s calloused fingers spidering their way into spaces between Harry’s own, and how he subconsciously wraps around his. Tries not to remember the way he tasted, of alcohol and cinnamon.

He really just wants a cigarette.

Stopping in front of the hotel, the two of them clamor out silently, standing still as the world continues on. Harry’s not sure if he should wait or if he can just go in, but as he starts to leave, Niall grasps his arm and spins him around so that they’re face to face. “Don’t… don’t go up there.”

“Why not?”

“Stay with me,” Niall murmurs, eyes wild yet genuine and Harry’s crossed.

“Niall I…”

“No, Harry, listen t’ me,” Niall begs, staring up at him with determination. “Louis has shown his true colors. He’s brought ya here fer what? T’ be with ya? That’s the biggest load of crap if I ever heard one. I’m giving ya a chance t’ be with someone that actually gives a damn that yer feelin’ down,” he reaches out for his hands. “With someone that will be by yer side and be honest with ya and never hurt ya like that.”

“Niall…”

“Stop, please, stop tryin’ t’ defend him. He may be beautiful, Haz, but yer stunningly magnificent. I’ve always been so enamored by the way you can look so effortlessly sexy even if you’ve juss woke up or came home from a long day at work. Don’t get me started on how much I adore the person you are. We’ll be here fer days. But please, stop thinkin’ that Louis is better than you when you have so much more to offer than he does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still kinda wish I'd gone with the slow burn, but I feel Niall and Harry have too much chemistry that exploring that will be more fun. :)
> 
> hope you liked this chapter!
> 
> follow me [on my tumblr](http://kissperingniall.tumblr.com/) if you want to see me away from my writing.
> 
> Love you guys~


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